CHAPTER VI.
IN THE WAKE OF SUMMER Yes, it was time to be going, and the thought was much on both our minds.
We had as yet, however, made no plans, had not indeed discussed any; but one afternoon, late in September, driven indoors by a sudden squall of rain, I came to Colin with an idea.

The night before we had had the first real storm of the season.
"Ah! This will do their business," Colin had said, referring to the trees, as we heard the wind and rain tearing and splashing through the pitch-dark woods.

"It will be a different world in the morning." And indeed it was.

Cruel was the work of dismantling that had gone on during the night.

The roof of the wood had fallen in in a score of places, letting in the sky through unfamiliar windows; and the distant prospect showed through the torn tapestry of the trees with a startling sense of disclosure.